


It's Three in the Morning and I'm Trying to Change Your Mind

by castielanderson



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Abuse, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, but it's summer break so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's got nothing left but his overbearing brother.  Thor's terrified of losing the one thing that truly matters to him.  Anger, fear, and pain pull and push them apart, but somehow they manage to meet in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Three in the Morning and I'm Trying to Change Your Mind

Thankfully, it’s a sunny day, warm but not too warm, and the train station is bustling with life, though it’s not too busy for them to be irritatingly close to people.  Thor’s train comes in at half past noon, and he drags Loki along until he spots Sif.  She’s there with Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg, and thank _God_ , they’ve promised to remain respectful.

(It’s been hard these past few weeks to make them understand.  They’ve only ever known Loki as Thor’s hardened, jealous brother, and no amount of explanation will change their minds.  They can’t sympathize with Loki, not when they’ve seen the way his actions have torn Thor apart.)

Sif gives Thor a hearty hug, welcoming him back.  Coldly, she offers Loki a welcome as well.   A twitch of his lips barely constitutes as a bitter acknowledgement, a little bigger and maybe it could have been a sad half-smile.

They attempt to talk as they walk back out to Sif’s car, but Thor feels uncomfortable answering questions with Loki listening.  He can’t tell Sif that this past weekend sucked, he can’t tell Fandral, even in a joking manner that no, he’s not looking forward to Loki living with him under these circumstances and it’s already kept him up at night for four days straight.  Eventually, they fall into silence, and Thor is extremely grateful.

Out in the parking lot, sunlight bathes them thoroughly, and it’s a terrible shock to see Loki in all his pale glory, his dark, bedraggled hair in his face.  His eyes look like they’ve sunken an inch into his head, and his lips almost look blue alongside the grey-ish pallor of his face.

Thor’s heart would break at the sight if it wasn’t already shattered.

.

.

The ride home is much the same as the walk to the car.  Sif drives Loki and Thor back to Thor’s apartment and attempts conversation, but it fails miserably.  Thor can’t speak about plain, mundane things right now, and he certainly can’t talk about the heavy things weighing on him.  He simply gives half-assed answers to Sif’s questions, watching Loki in the mirror as discreetly as possible.  He doesn’t do much, just stares out the window, but Thor knows of the thoughts that torture him.

Loki says nothing until they actually step inside Thor’s apartment.  He moves forward slowly, frowning, nose wrinkling in disgust.

“What?” Thor asks.  “I cleaned before I left.  Surely it doesn’t smell.”

“It’s not that,” Loki says, then explains sourly, “I forgot you lived in a studio apartment.”

Thor blinks.  “What’s so terrible about that?”

Loki’s lip curls.  “I’m not used to living without privacy.”

.

.

Once again, Thor barely sleeps a wink that night.  Loki does, and Thor knows it’s only because his body so desperately needs the rest, not because his mind made it easy.  Because he can’t sleep, several times throughout the night, Thor gets up to go check on Loki.  He remains safe and sound, but Thor is still convinced that he’ll wake up to find Loki gone.

The fourth time, Thor actually stays for awhile.  It’s a comfort, seeing his brother sleeping so peacefully, breath slow and even.  He’s turned on his side, cheek bunched up and mouth slightly open.  His brow is smooth, no furrow, and his eyes are not hunched in a scowl.

A small smile works its way onto Thor’s lips and he backs out of the space, heading back to his own bed.

.

.

Thor does not trust Loki alone, so reluctantly, Loki is dragged to Thor’s place of work the next morning.  He’s angry and bitter, but Thor suspects Loki is like that every morning.  He does not take it to heart.  Instead he gives his brother copious amounts of food – which he promptly refuses, and offers to let him shower first, thereby receiving all the hot water.  Loki does, and of course, leaves only cold water for Thor.

He sits shotgun again, staring out the window with a sullen look on his face.  Loki used to like New York, but that was six months ago, before any of this happened.

Thor doesn’t bother asking if he’s okay.  Loki won’t talk to him anyway.

Shop is just setting up when they arrive, and Loki slides reluctantly into one of the booths near the back of the place.  Thor brings him a cup of coffee some time later, and Loki thanks him quietly before he takes a sip.  He frowns, looking at the contents of the cup.

“Too sugary,” he remarks, then shrugs, taking a longer drink.

 He likes it black now, apparently. 

.

.

Loki stays in the same spot for most of the day.  He reads mostly, from a book he brought with him.  Thor delivers a newspaper at lunch, along with a sandwich and another cup of coffee, black this time.  Loki thanks him again, and offers a pathetic smile.

Thor says he can come back behind the bar if he wants, but after a look over there, Loki shakes his head.

“I’m fine here.” 

Thor sighs, but doesn’t argue.  Sif is working today anyway, and Thor suspects a fight could be on the horizon if they’re in each other’s personal space for too long.  She’s already irritated that Loki has to remain in Thor’s company at all times for awhile, though she promises she understands why.

“I just don’t understand why he couldn’t have stayed with someone else.  He’s not good to you, Thor.”

“There is no one else,” Thor replies, edging on exasperation.  “He doesn’t get along with Father, and no other relatives are quite as fond of him as I.”  And _Mother_ , he almost adds, but he doesn’t just in case Loki is eavesdropping.

Sif sighs heavily, taking a Panini from the oven.  “Couldn’t he have stayed in the hospital?”

“ _Sif –_ “ Thor begins, but she cuts him off.

“I’m sorry, Thor.  You know I worry about you.  I’m afraid you’re putting too much pressure on yourself being Loki’s caretaker.”

Thor scoffs.  “He’s my brother.  I’ve been taking care of him since we were children.”

“Yes, but not like this.”

“I’ll manage,” Thor promises.

.

.

The evening is calm and quiet enough.  Thor has the windows open, letting in some distant sounds of traffic, and an _Iron & Wine_ record plays softly on the stereo.  Thor is reading, and Loki lies on the couch, hands tucked underneath his head and eyes staring blankly ahead.  The only light is the lamp above Thor, but even the dimness isn’t enough to push Loki into sleep.

His mind is going haywire.

He doesn’t know how any of this happened, how their family was ripped apart so easily, so quickly.  He doesn’t understand how he himself deteriorated like this, so thoroughly and without warning.  He doesn’t understand how his father became a stranger, his mother nothing more than a memory, and his brother his overbearing chaperone.

Not that he doesn’t appreciate Thor, because he does.  He loves Thor dearly, more than anyone in this world could.  Thor is the only thing that matters, always, and especially now.  He’s lucky Thor loves him so, now that he thinks about it.

Loki just wishes that could be enough.

.

.

On Thor’s day off, he tries to get Loki to go out, but Loki refuses.  He’s spent too much time being dragged out of the house, following Thor around on all his daily errands.  He’s had enough of the city this week.  He just wants to rest, and Thor doesn’t argue, though it’s evident that the decision comes reluctantly.

It’s a rainy day, anyway, and Loki spends it on the couch, watching reruns of _Friends_ without actually paying attention.  Thor cleans and makes him food that doesn’t get eaten and tries to start conversations that easily fall into nothingness.

Loki sleeps through the late afternoon, falling in and out of nightmares.  He wakes up when he’s drowning, drenched in a cold sweat.  Thor sits down next to him and brushes the hair from his face.  Loki pushes his hand away more harshly than he had intended, but he doesn’t care.  He needs space, room to breathe.

“I’m going out to the balcony,” Loki says abruptly, voice shaking.

“Loki – “

“To get some fresh air,” Loki quickly adds, again, too harsh.

Thor watches him go, and Loki knows the look upon his face is one of sadness and desperation.

When Loki returns, Thor has made him dinner, and he shovels it down as an apology for his behavior earlier.  Neither of them talk, but plenty of things thrum underneath the surface.

.

.

The two of them fall asleep together, tangled in Thor’s bed.  Loki had hoped the nightmares might cease if he felt protected in unconsciousness, but they still come.  He wakes up with a jolt, sitting upright.  His breath is coming fast, and he worries that he might have awoken Thor, but when Loki snaps his head to the side, he finds that Thor sleeps on.

He just sits for a minute, catching his breath and looking around the room.  It’s still dark, though the moon glows bright through the curtains, and the clock on the nightstand tells Loki that it’s half past two in the morning.  Loki yanks his sweat-filled shirt up over his head and throws it to the ground as he stands up.  He pads quietly across the wooden floors and slips out of the room.

Thor doesn’t have much alcohol in the house, and Loki knows it’s because of him.  You don’t keep alcohol around when you have an ex-alcoholic brother.  Still, Thor has a few bottles of whiskey stashed away deep in his pantry.  Loki knows because the other night when Fandral and Volstagg were over, Thor had gone to the pantry to get a round.  Loki had been pretending to sleep on the couch, but watched with one eye open, and heard every word Thor tried to keep quiet about his worries and anxiety over him.

(He also overhead Fandral and Volstagg putting the blame on Loki himself.

“It’s not up to you, Thor.  All of this is Loki’s doing.”

“You should have left him in the hospital.”

But Loki prefers not to think of that.  If he did, he would have to face the horrible truth of Fandral and Volstagg being right.)

A rush of guilt washes over Loki, and he flicks the light to the pantry on with force.  He bends down to his knees, shoving jars and boxes and bags around until he finds the six-pack hidden behind canned vegetables.  He pulls a bottle out and easily cracks off the top.  The liquid sears his throat, and he closes his eyes with relief.  He doesn’t even think as he grabs the rest of the pack and heads out of the pantry.  He settles himself at the kitchen table, and three hours later he’s vomiting into the toilet, completely drunk off his ass and regretting every second of it.

Thor finds him, of course, looking nothing short of shattered.

And Loki has to make matters worse, of course, because he can’t stop sobbing, “I killed her, Thor.  I killed her.  It’s my fault she’s dead.  I _killed her_.”

.

.

They don’t talk about what happened in the morning, and Thor doesn’t bring any more alcohol into the house.

.

.

Thor’s in the shower, using up what’s left of the hot water.  Loki lays in bed, waiting for him.  He stares at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest.  Today hasn’t been terrible, not in the slightest, and Loki wonders if he could have more days like this.  They went out for a walk in the morning, finding a café by lunch and sitting down to eat.

Thor stuffed his face as usual, and Loki held in laughter as he picked away at his own food.  Afterward, they went grocery shopping, which proved to be a bit complicated, as the two of them have very different tastes.

“I’m not eating that,” Loki had said, when Thor had grabbed a box of Hamburger Helper.  “God, have you ever eaten any real food?”

Thor stared at him quizzically.  “This isn’t real?”

“No,” Loki huffs, pulling the item from his brother’s hand and shoving it back on the self.  “Come on, Thor.  I’ll cook you a proper meal tonight.”

And so he head, and they both enjoyed it.  The rest of the evening consisted of them lounging together and listening to music.  Thor suggested visiting a music store someday soon, and he promised to let Loki pick out whatever he liked.

They haven’t made any solid plans quite yet revolving that, but Loki’s holding Thor to it.

A yawn overcomes Loki, and he stretches his arms out.  He curls up into a ball on his side, eyes growing heavy as he waits for his brother to be done.  He doesn’t want to fall asleep alone, but he’s growing so exhausted.  His eyelids slip, droop, fall, they’re nearly there –

_Bzzzz.  Bzzzz._

They snap open, and Loki’s attention is drawn to the delicate glow of Thor’s phone on the nightstand.  Loki knows Thor would be irritated if he found his brother nosing around in his phone, which is exactly why Loki snatches it up and unlocks the screen.  He opens the message icon and waits impatiently for it to load.  _It’s probably a message from Sif_ , Loki thinks offhandedly, complaining about Loki himself or telling Thor what she’s wearing to bed.

But when Loki glances at the latest message, his stomach gives a jolt.

 **Father**  
 _Your brother is still with you?_  
.

.

Loki found the picture in one of Odin’s old filing folders, hidden among unpaid pills and discarded tax returns.  That in itself was the first testament to how important Odin found the secret he kept from Loki.  He would have preferred to keep it a secret, of course, but once the truth was out, Odin was not so delicate.

Loki still remembers – falling to his knees and clutching the photograph tight between his forefingers.  It was a small Polaroid, depicting a young man, sullen but smiling as he held a baby in his arms.  A woman stood off to the side of them, but her face was cut out of the shot.

He had carried it with shaking hands and unsteady legs to his father, some lightbulb deep inside of him going off.  He could remember being teased on the playground at school quite often, older, tougher boys telling him he was adopted because his whole family looked the same except for him.

Loki never took them seriously, never thought there could be an ounce of truth to their accusations.

He knows better now. 

All this time, Loki has kept the photograph, using it as a reminder of the lies and slander Loki had lived through during his childhood.  He kept it as a warning, a point of reason telling him that he can never go back to his father.  Not ever.

Loki burns it now, sitting up on the side of his bed with a lighter pressed to one edge of the photograph.  It hisses and spits underneath the small bit of fire, but it’s gone quickly, and Loki puts out the flame with the heel of his foot.

He doesn’t need a reminder anymore, he knows better.

.

.

It’s late, later than they would care to know, but neither of them can sleep.  They’re in Thor’s bed, tucked under the covers even though the night is relatively warm.  The window is open as usual, and they listen to the sounds of cars on the road below.  The smell of the fryers from the bar down the street are carried inside with every gentle breeze, and the occasional group of drunken friends can be heard singing in the distance.

Loki lays with his head tucked underneath Thor’s chin, and Thor’s arm wraps around his waist.   His breath is steady and slow, and it’s like music to Thor’s ears. 

It’s getting bad.  It’s possibly becoming the worst stretch since all of this transpired.

“Loki,” Thor starts.

“Hmm?”

“It’s been a month and a half.”

“I know.”

“When are you - ?”

“Never.”

“Loki – “ Thor says, and it’s desperate, needy.

“Thor, I don’t wish to talk about it,” Loki says firmly.  “And pestering me won’t solve anything.”

“You need to talk,” Thor pesters anyway.  “Your doctor – “

“My doctor is an idiot,” Loki huffs, pulling himself from Thor’s grip.  He lies on his back and crosses his arms over his chest.  “Talking about it only brings the pain back, Thor.”

“It’s supposed to – “

“Really?” Loki asks, snarling slightly.  “Well, pain is what pushed me over the edge.  Is that what you want, Thor?  For me to completely go off again?  Has that been your plan this whole time?”

“No,” Thor says, pushing himself up onto his elbow.  “Loki, I just want you to be happy – “

“Then stop treating me like I’m a frightened, little child!”

Silence follows Loki’s outburst, and the words ring in Thor’s ears.  It’s become so hard to reach Loki, and the realization hits Thor like a bullet.  They aren’t kids anymore, and their problems can’t be solved by a simple hug, or a kiss to the forehead, or a shared smile.  Their problems are much bigger than that, so much bigger that years ago they seemed unfathomable.  Now they’re lost in them, drowning in pain and fear and confusion.

Loki throws the covers off of himself and jumps out of bed.

“I’m going to my own room,” he says, voice hard.

“Loki, wait – “

But he’s already gone.

.

.

Thor wakes up at half-past ten and panics. 

He had an alarm, a schedule.  He needed to be awake when Loki was.  He needs to look out for him, needs to make sure he’s safe –

Thor bolts up and hurries to Loki’s room.

Just as he feared, the bed is empty.  He immediately calls Loki’s cell, heart dropping when it goes to his voicemail.  Without any further hesitation, he pulls on a dirty pair of jeans from the floor and his boots.  He swipes the car keys from the kitchen table and books it to the door.  He’s not sure where he’s going, but he has to look around.  Give him a solid twenty minutes and if he can’t find Loki, he’s calling the police.

Thor yanks the door open and is promptly greeted by his brother digging in his pocket for his keys.

“Loki?” Thor chokes out.

All the color drains from Loki’s face as he reaches for his brother’s shoulder.  “Thor – “

“Where were you?” Thor asks frantically, voice growing extremely loud. “You weren’t here, and then I called and you didn’t answer, and I thought – Loki, I thought the worst things – I thought – “

“Shhh,” Loki says half-heartedly, leading him inside.  “Thor, I’m fine.  I went out for a pack of cigarettes is all.  I’d run out.  I needed more.”  He lights one up and shoves it in his mouth.

Thor braces himself against the kitchen table, watching Loki with disbelief.

“Next time, tell me.  I’d prefer not to have another panic attack.”

Loki takes a long drag and then breathes out.  “Can’t make any promises, brother.”

.

.

It’s a tense car ride to the shop that morning.  Loki smokes on the way, letting the puffs get pulled out of the open window.  Thor is still shaken, nerves wrought and rattled by their fight and Loki’s consequence momentary disappearance.  He still can’t articulate to himself even what exactly was going through his mind when he found Loki to be gone.

In return, Loki shows no sign of regret or guilt.  The more time that passes between now and Loki’s breaking point, the farther he is lost in his world of pain.  He grows weary, and with weariness comes irresponsibility and arrogance. 

Thor’s terrified that they’ll reach a point in which he can no longer reach the hopeful part of his brother, and that this so-called Point of No Return will be upon them much sooner than they could ever realize.

Loki lets another wisp of smoke escape his lips, and Thor tightens his grip on the wheel.

.

.

“Why are you so cruel to him?”

Loki looks up slowly, raising his eyebrows at the person looking down at him.  Sif is fiery, her eyes angry, hands settled on her hips like weapons ready to launch.  He looks around discreetly, but it seems his brother has disappeared for the time being.

“How do you know it’s me that’s being cruel?” Loki asks.  “How do you know it is not him who tempts me?”

“I know you,” Sif says with a snarl.  “And I know Thor.”

Loki laughs, mocking.  “You only think you know him.”

Sif leans forward slightly, hands crossing over her chest.  “Excuse me?”

Loki rolls his eyes.  “I’m going to be clear, Sif.  He does not need you to defend him, and I don’t need you to berate me.  You have no business with what goes on between us, and I would so greatly appreciate it if you would _butt out_.”  He says the last two words with force, baring his teeth.

“It is my business,” Sif replies after a moment, quiet and serious.  Her eyes have gone glassy, and Loki would like to slap the emotion right from her face.  “It is my business when he’s wrecked.  When he spends days frantic and out of his mind because his brother thinks it wise to toy with him.”

Loki feels a sting in his heart.  Another person more concerned with Thor, with what his emotions are even though he’s the one who’s fine.  As if he’s the one who’s lost his mind when he’s the only who has control of his.  As if he’s the one drowning in pain when he’s the one trying to ease others’ - when really, his own pain has been handled thoroughly and healthily.

“You know nothing, Sif,” Loki growls.  “I would never toy with Thor in this way.  I’m not nice, I am well aware, but even I’m not that cruel.”

Sif scoffs, turning her head and setting her jaw while she thinks a moment.  When she opens her mouth to speak, Loki cuts her off.

“You say you know me, you know Thor,” he begins, and he’s going to get her right where it hurts the most.  She’s already gotten him.  It’s what she deserves.  “But you are not so perceptive.  And yet, _I_ know _you_ , Sif.  I know why you hold so much anger in your heart.”

She looks to him, fear hidden beneath the surface.

“You are jealous, Sif,” Loki says, and he feels his lips starting to twist, turning up into a smile.  “You are wrought with it.  It fills you up, eats away at you, because you cannot stand what truly is between Thor and I.  You wish he could love you the way he loves me.  And you wish you could love him that way that I do, but that is not likely to ever happen.”

Sif’s jaw clenches, muscles bouncing beneath her skin.  Her eyes darken, and she dares to take a step further towards Loki.

“You’re wrong, Loki,” she says in a deadly tone.  “I _can_ love him the way you do – or at least, the way you _think_ you do.  Because I, Loki, would never intend to leave him the way you tried.  I would never be that selfish, nor that ignorant.”

She spins on her heel and stalks away, and Loki is left shattered, seething, and distraught.

.

.

Thor wanted nothing more for than Loki to drop the whole subject.  It didn’t matter where he had come from; what mattered is that he was truly a part of the family.  He was Odin and Frigga’s son, he was _Thor’s brother_ – nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

Loki couldn’t stand not knowing his true self, no matter how much he knew it was going to wreck him.  He was wrecked enough already, what was another few truths?  He had to know.

So he started digging.  He researched as much as he could about Laufey, and the things he read destroyed him.

Laufey was a criminal, a con-man, a torturer, and a rapist.  He was positively notorious, and his own blood ran through Loki’s body.  It all started to make sense then, why Loki had such a talent for mischief, why Odin had always favored Thor and urged him to take on the political scene of New York City, keeping up the family name.

There was no way Loki could have risen like Thor would.  If word got out to the press about the truth of Loki’s heritage, the name would be ruined.  Odin’s career would have been slain.

Interesting then, how everything managed to fall apart anyway.

.

.

Loki spends another evening on the balcony, and Thor watches with a gut full of anxiety.  It’s a cloudy day, and eventually, it begins to rain.  Loki doesn’t even flinch.  It’s not a heavy rain, nor is it cold, but it still soaks Loki to the bone.

With great cautiousness, Thor makes his way out there.

.

.

Time is passing slowly and speedily at the same time.  Loki’s mind is completely lost elsewhere.  He can’t shake himself from the conversation he had with Sif earlier in the day. Sif’s never been one to be so malicious, but Loki has never been one to be so careless.

Yet here they both are.  They’re like children, and Loki thinks that maybe Thor’s treatment has been justified.  Maybe he’s right.  Maybe Sif’s right.

Maybe everyone’s right.

Maybe Loki’s a selfish, stupid, arrogant fool hellbent on destroying the lives of those around him.  And he does, whether he intends to or not.

His father ended up in the hospital because of the stress Loki put on him.  His mother died because Loki couldn’t control himself.  Thor’s been reduced to a worrisome wreck because Loki couldn’t face the consequences of all of his actions.

His breath starts to speed up, and the world tilts ominously around him.

Hands close gently around Loki’s wrists, and he yanks with all his might, but they won’t let go.

“No,” he grunts.  “Let go of me – “

“Loki,” comes a soft voice.  “Loki, please.”

“Don’t – let me go – “

“Loki, calm down.  It’s me.  It’s Thor.  I’m here.”

Loki freezes, the name catching him.  His vision swims, but he can tell it’s starting to focus again.  His breath begins to come slower, more even, and he’s simply left shaking, stomach churning and head spinning.  He leans forward, forehead catching on Thor’s shoulder.

“I’m here,” Thor says again.  “I’m right here, Loki.”

Loki looks up with suddenly clarity, eyes locked on Thor’s and he chokes out, “Am I cursed?”

.

.

Thor took Loki to his first party when he was just fifteen.  He didn’t enjoy it much then, being a sophomore in the midst of a crowd of seniors.  Fandral found him sitting alone near the entryway and offered to get him drunk.  Loki had declined, claiming illness, and Fandral had gone to fetch Thor instead.

Two years later, Fandral was the one Loki sought upon learning the truth of his parentage.  Fandral hadn’t asked why he wanted to get drunk, though Loki was sure he knew.  He never pressed for information, nor did he judge Loki for wanting to drown his sorrows with alcohol.

Instead he clapped Loki on the back, offered a generous grin and a fake ID, and drove him to the nearest bar.  Loki had four beers that night and passed out on the front porch.  Thor found him first, thankfully, and put him to bed.

Loki should have stopped there, but he didn’t.

Loki continued to go out with Fandral, but after a serious talk with Thor – well, a major blowout, really –Fandral no longer offered his assistance in getting Loki drunk.  Loki kept the fake ID, however, and got himself to bars.  He met new people, formed new pseudo-friendships, and got them to fuel his breakdown.  It only took a matter of months before Loki was completely dependent on alcohol, marijuana, and various other drugs.

He kept it in control for awhile, longer than he would have thought he could.  But it became so hard, and Loki couldn’t stop.  It wasn’t ever about having fun.  It wasn’t ever about hurting people.  He just wanted to stop feeling pain.  He just wanted everything to stop.

.

.

Thor takes Loki to the music store.

It’s warm, but the air is changing.  A breeze tickles their bare skin as they walk along the sidewalk, hands brushing at their sides.  Thor would grab Loki’s hand, hold it tightly, but he knows that Loki wouldn’t let him, least of all in public.  So he walks on, feeling small bursts of electricity every time his knuckles smooth across Loki’s skin.

The music store is relatively busy, but not too crowded.  Thor trails behind Loki, watching as he allows his face to light up slightly at the vastness of the place.  Loki glances back at Thor, and it’s wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else, but there’s an upturn of his lips that Thor decides to count as a victory smile.

Loki begins browsing almost immediately, collecting up records that he knows he’d like to have, but isn’t sure he needs.  Thor promised to buy him whatever, but Loki won’t push the limits.  Too far, really.  He knows there are boundaries.  He might overstep them a little, but Thor won’t mind, of course.

As they’re looking through the rows of albums, the smell of something Italian wafts around. 

“Is there a restaurant next door?” Loki asks absently.

Thor hums.  “I think so, yes.”

“We should try it,” Loki says.

“You want?” Thor asks, and he has to admit, he’s slightly surprised.  It’s been so difficult trying to get Loki to go out and integrate himself back in the world.  He hopes the rest of this outing proves to be successful.  It would be just his luck to have it end in disaster.

Loki nods.  “It smells quite good.”

“Yeah, alright,” Thor says.  “We can go there for lunch.”

Loki takes his time, and he ends up with several albums still when he narrows them all down.  Thor doesn’t care.  He hauls them all up to the register and buys eighty dollars worth of music for his brother.  He likes most of the artists, too.  So really, it’s a win-win situation.

The place next door is a pizza and pasta joint, and the two of them choose a table outside.  It’s important for Loki to get as much sunlight as possible.  But of course, he’s outrageously pale, and Thor’s an obnoxious mother hen as he orders his brother to put on sunscreen.  Loki rolls his eyes violently and lets out a sigh, but he listens, knowing that underneath all of that overprotectiveness is true concern and a reason to be so controlling.

The food turns out to be just as delicious as it smells, and as they’re eating, Thor takes notice of the way Loki has put on the slightest bit of weight.  It’s reassuring to say the least, as he’d nearly been a skeleton before.  He’s still delicate as he eats, but it’s a start.

The afternoon has turned into early earning by the time they start to head back home, and Loki still seems to be in well spirits.  He walks even closer to Thor now, keeping their hands as close together as possible. 

Thor’s heart races against the inside of his ribs.

.

.

They watch a movie when they get home.  They stretch out on the couch and Thor cracks open a window, letting the fresh air inside.  It’s comfortable.  More than comfortable, actually.  It feels right.  It feels like home.

.

.

Thor makes dinner after the movie, and still surprisingly, Loki offers to help.  Thor had thoroughly enjoyed the meal he made the other night, and Loki’s apparently determined to show Thor better ways to cook for himself.

They make hot sandwiches, and Loki shows Thor how to properly toast the bread before adding the ingredients inside and wrapping it up in tinfoil.  He stuffs it open with the tinfoil closed, and when it’s nearly done, opens the tinfoil up.

“You have to make sure the cheese is thoroughly melted or it’ll taste like shit.  What?”

Thor gives himself a small shake.  “What?:”

“You were staring at me,” Loki explains, and Thor fights a blush.

“Sorry,” he says quickly.  “I was thinking.”

.

.

Loki lies awake, alone.

It had been a good day, and he’d felt happy for the first time in a year, but he should have known it wouldn’t last.  It’s midnight and he’s already slipping back into darkness.  He can’t help it, he realizes, and a small part of him knows that this isn’t ever going to go away.   He keeps pretending, purely for Thor’s sake, but he knows that there’s no turning back.

He’s too far gone.

.

.

It was stupid.  It was a stupid, selfish mistake, and it cost so much.

He didn’t think, and of course he didn’t, as Odin so harshly added later – he never thinks.  And when he does, it’s only for himself.  He’s a stupid, arrogant little boy, and he doesn’t deserve those he calls loved ones.

Loki agreed then.  He still does.

He shouldn’t have gone to the park.  He shouldn’t have sought Thanos out.  He knew things were sketchy with Thanos for a reason.  He should have stayed away like Thor warned him, but he couldn’t think straight.  He just wanted the cocaine.  He _needed_ it.  He needed to suppress everything, he needed to ease away the pain.  He needed to breathe.

Getting what he needed was the only thing that mattered.

And of course, _of course_ , the police had to show up. 

He was only lucky on the account that he hadn’t bought anything yet, and they couldn’t prove he was in possession of anything.  Still, maybe it would have been better if they could have.  If he would have had to stay in custody rather than have his mother come and bail him out.  Maybe then they wouldn’t have fought loudly in the streets.  Maybe they wouldn’t have attracted so much attention and alerted people to who and where they were.

Maybe Loki’s last words to her wouldn’t have been, “You’re not my mother.”

.

.

When Loki wakes up, the bed next to him is empty.  It’s strange, as he and Thor have been waking up together the past few weeks, soaking in the rays of morning sunlight before they brave the world outside Thor’s bedroom.

The bed is warm and comfortable, and Loki could lie in it for another twelve hours if he could, but he feels wrong without Thor next to him.  He sits up, stretches, and after scratching his back absently, makes his way out to the living room.

He can hear a low voice as he approaches, and it takes him a second to realize Thor’s on the phone.

“No, no – don’t worry about,” he’s saying.  “I’ll be fine.  He’ll be fine.  Trust me.  I’m going to make sure.”

There’s a pause, a long pause, and Thor sighs overwhelmingly several times.

“I couldn’t.  It would have made things worse.”

Pause.

“It’s hardly safe, nor is it comfortable.”

Pause.

“I care.  If he’s going to get better it needs to happen the right way.  That place wasn’t right for him.”

Pause.

“Okay.  Yes.  I’ll – I’ll talk to you later.  I promise.  Okay.  Goodbye.”

An uneasy feeling has settled in Loki’s stomach, and his lungs feel weak as he takes the last remaining steps into the living room, revealing himself.

Thor looks over in surprise, smiling when he sees his brother.

“Hello, Loki.”

Loki swallows hard.  “Who were you talking to?”

Thor’s smile falters.  A sudden, dulled panic rises in his eyes.  “No one,” he lies.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Loki presses, “or you would tell me who it was.”

“It was no one,” Thor repeats.  “Trust me, Loki.  It would do you better to ignore it and continue on with your morning.”

Loki shakes his head, clenching his jaw together.  “Thor, tell me who it was.  You were talking about me – I deserve to know.”’

Evidently, he looks more serious than he intended to, because Thor caves, heaving a deep sigh.  He runs his fingers through his hair, averting his eyes.

“It was father,” he says quietly.  “He – he was worried about you.”

Loki scoffs.  “That’s a nice sentiment, but I hardly doubt he was.”

Thor looks at him, surprised and taken aback.  “Loki – “

“Oh, please,” Loki drawls.  “Don’t even start with me, Thor.  I know how father feels about me.”

Thor shakes his head, adamant.  “Loki, he doesn’t – he was appalled when he found out – “

“Only because the headlines ruined his political career,” Loki points out, and he’s right.  He knows it is.  The proclamations of Odin Borson’s drug-addicted son completely deteriorated his campaign and lost him heavy amounts of support.

“He’s worried about you,” Thor insists.

“He isn’t,” Loki counters, raising his voice, “and I would sincerely appreciate if you dropped the subject, Thor.  You know nothing of what goes on between father and I.  It is our business alone, and I’d rather not have you be caught as messenger.”

“I’m not a messenger,” Thor says quietly.  “If anything, I’m the desperate son and brother trying to play peacekeeper.”

Loki sighs again.  “Don’t waste your breath, then.  Odin and I won’t make peace for years to come.  Maybe not ever.”

Loki can still hear his father’s words ringing clearly in his mind, telling him that he should have died long ago, rather than putting himself in such mortal danger now with the addiction.  Odin had tried to pass it off as some kind of sick and twisted “intervention” bullshit when Loki really knew what he meant: _your actions are killing my career.  I wish you would have died as a child before I saved you._

.

.

Loki doesn’t plan to sneak out again.  It just happens.

Thor falls asleep beside him, and Loki lies awake, staring at the ceiling for hours until he pulls himself up and his feet hit the floor.  It’s one in the morning, and it’s probably not smart for him to go out, but god, he can’t _breathe_ in here.

The hardwood floors are cool underneath his bare feet as he heads to his room to grab his wallet, a pair of jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt.  He throws on a pair of Chuck Taylors and leaves the apartment with a soft click of the lock.

The streets are wet, the night cold and damp from the rain that had fallen earlier that day.  Loki pulls his hood up and tucks his hands deep into his jeans’ pockets.  His shoulders hunch up, and he falls into the easy pattern of making himself look smaller.

The bar isn’t particularly “pumping” when he arrives, but it’s certainly not dead.  Loki pulls himself easily up onto a bar stool and jiggles his leg while he waits.  He’s more than eager to get roaring drunk.

His first drink goes down in a matter of a few minutes, and he heartily accepts another.  By the time he starts on his third, he’s starting to feel a heavy buzz.  Loki pulls out a cigarette and lights it up.  He feels a little disappointed that it’s nothing more than a cigarette.  He could use a joint right now.  Maybe he’ll seek one out later in the night.

When he’s finished, a man approaches him, obviously flirting.  Loki wastes no time in turning him down.  He’s not here to have fun.  He’s here to forget the mess inside his head.  He’s here to numb all the heartbreak and pain that feels like it’s suffocating him.

The man turns away, sour, and Loki almost wants to laugh at how continuously alone he is.  It’s his own doing, of course, but that doesn’t stop the hurt.  He wonders briefly how long it will be before Thor, too, gives up on him.  Everyone else has, including Loki himself.  He doesn’t understand why Thor is still wasting his time.  Surely he’ll realize soon enough.

Someone spikes his fifth drink, and Loki watches him do it out of the corner of his eye.  It doesn’t work like the man had wanted, but Loki appreciates the free narcotics.  As the world shifts around him, he starts to realize how much he truly longed for something stronger, how much he needed it.

His surroundings start to completely fade when he’s on his sixth drink, and Loki feels light, like he’s floating.  He downs the seventh and it’s almost like he’s feeling happy again.  He’s so numb he can’t tell the difference.

The eighth brings with it a crash.  Loki wanders into the night.  He doesn’t remember much of what happens, but at some point, the darkness claims him.

.

.

Loki comes to, and he can’t see straight.  It’s still dark, but there’s no one around him.  His head hurts like hell, and he knows he’s going to be sick.  He vomits on the ground beside him, and when he’s finished, struggles pulling his phone from his pocket. As he does, he notices the color on his arms.  Red.

Around him is smashed glass, and there’s one, larger particular shard covered in what Loki knows is his blood.  Dizziness shrouds his head as he wrestles his phone from his pocket in a panic.  His vision blurs when he looks at the screen, but somehow he manages to dial his brother’s phone number.

Thor answers in a frantic voice, asking him, panicked, where he is.

“The bar. . . on seventy-seventh,” he answers.  “I’m outside.  I need help.  Thor . . . I’m bleeding.  There’s so much of it.  So much blood.”

It takes Thor a matter of five minutes to arrive with the car, and he drops down beside his brother, pulling his t-shirt over his head and wrapping Loki’s arms in it.  

"I"m a fool," Loki breathes. "I'm a fool, Thor. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - "

"Shh," Thor says. "You're okay."

The blood isn’t gushing, but it still stains the fabric.  He hauls Loki into the passenger’s seat, and Loki almost passes out again with the effort.

Thor is uneasily silent during the ride to the apartment, and Loki waits for the explosion.

It doesn’t come at first, and Loki almost thinks himself irrationally lucky.  He doesn’t count on the sting coming quietly, piercing him when his brother looks at him with a truly heartbroken expression and simply asks, “Why?”

Loki closes his eyes, trying to gain some ground in consciousness.  He’s still so dizzy, and he wonders absently if maybe they should have taken him to the hospital.  He supposes he’s glad.  He’d never hear the end of it if he ended up in the hospital again.

“Loki,” Thor says.  “There’s a reason you’re living with me.”

“I know.”

“But I can’t keep babysitting you.  You have to help me.”

Loki sighs heavily.  “Thor, I can’t.”

“You can, though,” Thor insists.

Loki shakes his head against his better judgment.  “I can’t.  There’s no hope.  Why can’t you see that?”

“There is,” Thor says, and that’s when he starts to get angry.  “Loki, why do you do this to yourself?  Why do you do this to me?  Can’t you see how much you’re tearing me apart?  I’ve tried so hard to help you, but you won’t accept it.  Do you know how it feels to see your only brother deteriorating in front of you?”

It’s like a slap to the face, and Loki realizes his brother has already given up.  He gave up long ago.

“Don’t you dare,” Loki whispers.  “Thor Odinson, don’t you dare.”

Thor blinks, taken aback.  “Loki – “

“Don’t you start on me,” Loki spits.  “You of all people.  How dare you stoop that low.”

“I don’t understand – “

“How does it feel to _see_ me deteriorating?” Loki asks, nothing but venom in his voice.  “Do know how it feels to _be_ the one losing his mind, Thor?  And to have no one care?”

“I care,” Thor says quietly.

“You don’t,” Loki counters angrily, voice still rising.  “You’re just like everyone else.  Since the moment I found out the truth, everyone has been caught up in how my actions affected them.  Not once has anyone tried to _help me_.  Father worried about his career, mother worried about you and father, you’re worrying about yourself.  Yet no one worries about _me_ , and I’m the one who jumped from a fucking bridge!”

Loki’s screaming now, tears coming fast down his face.

“People aren’t supposed to live when they jump from bridges,” he continues, nearly hysterical.  “I know I’ve always been one for cruel jokes, but waking up in the hospital, _alive_ , was the cruelest joke of them all.  I wanted nothing more than to be dead, and yet not even that can go my way.”

The effort of shouting makes spots dance across his vision, and sways forward dangerously.

 “Loki – “ Thor whispers, and he too is crying.  He reaches out a hand, and catches Loki expertly, holding him up straight.

“Don’t touch me,” he tries to hiss, but he’s weak.

“Loki, I’m sorry,” Thor says quietly.  “I truly am.  I hate that you feel this way, that you wish death upon yourself.  I hate it so much it makes me sick, and yet, I cannot even imagine the pain you must be feeling.  Loki, please – let me help you.  That’s all that I ask.  Let me.”

Loki says nothing, but he turns his head.

Thor leans down carefully, trying to approach his brother with caution.  Loki tries to pull away, but he can’t muster up the strength.

“Loki – “

It takes a moment, but Loki turns, intending to face his brother.  Instead, he’s greeted by Thor’s lips crashing into his own.  His eyes go wide in surprise, and then they’re closing as he melts into the kiss.  The palm of Thor’s hand comes up to grasp the curve of Loki’s jaw and tenderly hold his neck.  With that, Loki finally responds, kissing him back.  When they finally pull away, Thor presses their foreheads together.  Loki keeps his eyes closed, feeling Thor against him, breathing him in.

“Please,” Thor whispers.  “Loki, please.  I love you.”

“And I, you,” Loki breathes, but again he tries to push away, though it’s half-hearted.  “But – “

“No,” Thor says, softly, but firmly.  He grips Loki’s elbow and pulls him back.  “No ‘buts.’  You say you want help, and I’m here to give it.”

Loki looks at him sadly.  “I don’t think there’s help _for_ me, anymore.  Thor, what if I can’t change?”

“Do you want to?” Thor asks.

“Yes,” Loki says, and his voice gets caught in his throat.  “But, Thor – “

“Then just try,” Thor asks.  “Loki, people can always change.  People can always recover.”

“Even me?” Loki asks, giving a slight, pained smile.

“Even you,” Thor promises.  “Please – let me help you, Loki.”

It takes awhile.  It takes a long, dreadful moment while Loki’s thoughts race through his mind.  Images flashing – the photo, Laufey’s hardened face, empty bottles, his mother’s dress stained with blood, Odin bellowing at him in anger, Thor watching from a distance, a handful of pills, a pack of cigarettes, the water rushing up to meet him, broken glass being driven into his skin.  He doesn’t know how he can erase all of that, but then again, maybe he doesn’t have to.

“Okay,” Loki says.  “Okay.”


End file.
